


Something to hold on to

by Vlad_the_Impala



Category: Topp Dogg (Band)
Genre: Getting Together, M/M, anxious!Hansol, side pairing:B-Joo/underpants
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-14
Updated: 2016-11-14
Packaged: 2018-08-31 01:49:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,966
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8558494
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Vlad_the_Impala/pseuds/Vlad_the_Impala
Summary: A lot of things can happen on a short break for the idols. Hansol doesn't usually call, he's terrified of phones. But this time it's something really important.





	

The trail between the fountains was bordered with a thick line of little low lanterns forming an even solid wall of warm light. In between the trees the lights from afar were barely visible, and the laughs and shouts kept coming from away at the pool, already scarce, but still full of joy. The water along the stones and the leaves on the tree branches were murmuring something unintelligible but calming. Yooncheol’s phone vibrated, abruptly and loudly, ruining his blissful placidity.

Yooncheol blinked once, again – and came to his senses. He shook his head, brushing off the remainders of his reverie. Being social required some effort. He reached in his pocket and took out the phone persistently demanding his attention. Sliding his finger across the screen, he glanced at the name automatically, and raised his eyebrows.

‘Yooncheolie?’ the voice called from the speaker.

Hansol didn’t usually call. He feared phones even more than he did consultants or girls his age. Yooncheol prepared for the worst, gathering all of his strength, albeit scarce after weeks and weeks of working without rest.

‘Yooncheolie, where’re you at?’ Hansol’s voice was too calm and curious for worries.

‘Here, about the fountains. What’s on your mind?’

‘When do you want to be back?’

Yooncheol squinted at the empty end of the bench.

‘Um… you need me?’

Hansol puffed on the other side.

‘We-ell… if I say I don’t, it will be offensive… huh… actually, nothing special happened, it’s just that I came back…’

Yooncheol waited, biting back the smile of relief.

‘I have booze,’ Hansol yielded.

Yooncheol laughed into the phone, not holding back any more. Hansol giggled in response on the other end.

‘So _this_ is what you had to call for? To invite me for a drink? You could’ve just sent me a message, you know I always read.’

‘Well, I…’ Hansol stumbled and giggled again.

‘Oh come on, just say that you miss me already. When did I leave, like, ten minutes ago? You scared the shit out of me, don’t you do it again.’

‘Sorry…’

‘It’s fine. I’ll be right there, don’t start without me.

Yooncheol pushed himself off the bench and rose, bouncy. His knee crackled and he stretched to crackle everything else. He had been sitting on that bench, deep in thought and unmoving, for more than an hour for certain. Fixing his thin jacket on his shoulders, he stooped habitually and strode off in the direction of the hotel.

* * *

The short break had just started, and the boys enjoyed all they could out of the short time without makeup, and cameras watching their every step. Being completely honest, Yooncheol had grown immensely tired of constant waiting for the next gathering with the managers and the staff to result in a prank, or going to bed being ready to be waken up with a lens in his face, just to be taken to bumfuck nowhere to finish tasks. This all was lots of fun, but tiresome nevertheless.

And what was more tiresome was his, voluntarily taken, responsibility of dragging Hansol out of the hellhole of his anxiety.

It seemed weird to imagine a person so severely scared of people becoming a trainee and even debuting as an idol. But Hansol was determined to face his fears – and, you had to give him that, he was a success. He could socialize bravely for days and weeks, he would flirt with a camera, entertain everyone and everything in sight, he’d be found hanging upon the neck of every member at least ten times a day, and just maybe he would get himself an extra day off. And then it resulted in the same thing each time.

He would stop ever leaving the room without someone of the guys. His most trusted ones were Yooncheol, Byungjoo, and Sangdo, and he dragged one of them around by the hand, even to the toilet – everywhere he had a chance of meeting someone he wasn't close with, or even anyone less empathetic, like Yano-Sangwon. In especially severe cases, he would stop leaving the room _at all_ , except dragging himself out to the training roomsб where he toiled daily nightly. And then Yooncheol sighed deeply and got to his job.

He helped as much as he knew how. Softly, little by little he got to take Hansol out to the common room when it was empty already, - just to sit for a while. He did Hansol’s shopping, spending his own money on his favourite sweets on the way back. He did his laundry and guarded him. He urged him softly to take selfies for his Instagram (‘ _Come on, say hello. You know they love you. Want me to pose with you?’_ ). As Hansol always forgot to eat, he brought him full warm bowls, carefully covered and wrapped. He would open the dancing room door gently and soundlessly, leave the bowls on the floor, with chopsticks on them, and left in the same quiet way. Sometimes, though, he allowed himself to admire the focused Hansol. He moved smoothly, softly, he was made for dancing: tiny, but strong, so light and agile. Yooncheol envied him.

But Hansol’s calls were always for one reason. When he sent messages, whatever they said, even if he complained or demanded Yooncheol come right away, Yooncheol’s heart remained relatively at ease. But if he called, Yooncheol’s first urge was to check if he had napkins on him, and his chest began to nag. After all this time, he hadn’t got used to Hansol’s tears, and every time he saw them he was at a loss. If he tried consoling him, he would babble something unintelligible and out of place, or start smiling like a fool, his smile begging and perplexed. The only thing he did well was hugging. His arms were long, his palms big, and Hansol fit in his embrace perfectly. He buried his nose in Yooncheol’s shoulder (he couldn’t really reach any higher), and quickly grew quiet. And as he calmed down, little by little, he looked up with his eyes red, and smiled fondly and gratefully. Yooncheol cherished those moments.

* * *

As soon as Yooncheol opened the door of the suite, Hansol rushed to meet him, smiling slyly and joyfully. He pulled Yooncheol’s jacket off of him, hung it on the rack – and was already dragging him by the hand into the room. Yooncheol threw off his huge sneakers with his toes, on the go, barely catching up with the brisk swarthy shadow. Hansol had already let him go, leaving him wondering by the bed, like a tall pole, and was fidgeting with the bottles. Yooncheol laughed and dropped his bottom onto the bed. Hansol put the opened bottles onto the cabinet, crouched down in front of it, and gave Yooncheol a sly little glance, opening it.

‘You happen to like smuggled goods?’

Yooncheol’s eyes grew square: he was already hearing the crunch of the bag.

‘You mad!’

Hansol chuckled, showing a corner of a big bad of crisps from behind the cabinet door.

‘I say, fuck the diet! If we’re on holiday, so be it.’

‘I won’t even ask how you got them in.’

‘Easier than it might seem,’ judging by the sound, Hansol opened the pack. With a quick motion he pushed it under the blanket and made a little cave for a hand to reach in. ‘Staying covered matters.’

Yooncheol pushed his hand into the blanket cave immediately and filled his mouth with crisps.

‘You little…’

‘Sunshine!’ Hansol finished confidently for him, handing him the bottle. ‘Should I get you a glass, or are you like all those normal people out there?’

‘You’re totally nuts,’ Yooncheol managed through laughter.

‘A little party never killed nobody,’ Hansol took a sip from his bottle and smiled, widely and joyfully.

Yooncheol waved a hand at him and took a big gulp. He had grown out of habit with the taste, but his body remembered, and reacted well. The warmth spread in his stomach. He reached under the blanket for the crisps.

‘Don’t you dare drop any crumbles, or you’re sleeping in here yourself,’ Hansol warned.

Yooncheol licked his fingers clean and crunched on the crisps.

‘Deal. How’ve you been?’

Hansol stuck a handful into his mouth.

‘Beejoo stole my underpants again,’ he informed matter-of-factly, having swallowed quite a bit.

Yooncheol puffed, covering his mouth with his hand.

‘Bitch,’ was his verdict. ‘He steals from all. I bet they are plotting with Jiho.’

‘Mine most often.’

‘He’s hitting on ye.’

Hansol slapped Yooncheol’s shoulder and their glances met for barely a second.

‘…or maybe, you are. Just casually throwing your underpants in his bags. Maybe even dirty ones.’

‘E-ew, damn!!!’

They laughed and clinked their bottles.

‘To Byungjoo,’ Yooncheol announced.

‘To his underpants,’ Hansol nodded.

They took a couple sips each and reached under the blanked for the crisps at once. After a few minutes of fidgets and giggles, Hansol finally spilled the crumbs on his own bed.

‘Your fault,’ he declared, pushing all the crisps he had into his mouth, together with most of his fingers.

‘Sleep on your bed yourself, you keep socks under your pillow.’ Yooncheol pulled a face, barely holding his laughter.

‘Those are yours!’

‘My stench is different.’

They both stuck their tongues out in cringes, then shrugged and got down to the crisps again. For some more time all that was heard was crunching.

‘So you just stuck in that park?’ asked Hansol finally, almost tenderly,

‘Got my ass numb,’ Yooncheol confessed. ‘Got a bit lost, you know.’

‘I know.’

‘I wanna go home,’ Yoocheol sighed in a few seconds’ silence. ‘It’s cool here, but now I have loads of time to think about it. And it’s pretty so-so.’

‘You miss you family, ha?’

Yooncheol nodded, looking down. He was quite ashamed to admit, he didn’t always miss his family. He worked a lot, he worked hard and with pleasure, and that routine captivated him. He usually started feeling homesick when Hansol felt bad. And the worst it got when he was just out of another pit. Loud, ringing with laughter, fresh after the shower, he rolled on the floor with Byungjoo in the evenings, and then he lay right on the guy, purring something sweet and sleepy. It wasn’t like Yooncheol was jealous. He was not the type of friend who wanted to be the best and the only. But he couldn’t help but admit: Hansol had fun so much more often with others. And wrestled playfully on the couch – with the others, too.

‘That’s not good.’ Hansol broke the silence. Yooncheol raised his head a bit too sharply to look in his eyes. Hansol was watching him carefully, not smiling any more.

 _Why the fuck did I have to say it? –_ Yooncheol thought absently, taking a huge sip out of his bottle.

‘Huh, why?’

‘You don’t usually miss home, do you. Or maybe you just keep it to yourself. I haven’t heard that kind of things from you.’

‘Well, there you go. I don’t. And then I do. Telling you, there wasn’t really time for thinking about it back there. And now there’s plenty.’

Hansol shook his head, not convinced. But the next moment his smile beamed again.

‘Li-isten, I already know how to cheer you up. Let’s go to the pool early tomorrow morning? I know the time when literally no one is there, and we could sneak in. What do you wanna bet that I will skinny dip and not get caught?’

Yooncheol hemmed involuntarily. The alcohol got him eased, and he didn’t feel like giving up to ennui.

‘A kick in the butt that you will.’

‘A kick for you?’

‘Nah, for you. Right under the butterfly.’

‘Oh fuck you, pretty please! You’re boring.’

Hansol hit him on the shoulder again, but this time Yooncheol gave and fell to his side, catching the bottle between his knees and letting out a little laugh. He was alright, he was. The bad feeling was gone, and he was feeling warm and comfy. He was slowly getting drunk.

‘The fuck did you invite me for, then? Could have drunk everything on your own before I come,’ he smiled heartily.

Hansol leaned forward, resting his elbows on Yooncheol’s hip.

‘Why drink solo when I can have someone to blame if I get in trouble.’

‘Ooh, so this is how you do…’

This sounded a bit too drawled, and instead of a playful tone, Yooncheol got a sleepy one.

‘What? You’re done? Already? You’re wasted? You want a pillow?’ Hansol gave him a dig in the ribs. Yooncheol curled up, trying to keep the bottle in place, but Hansol’s little fidgety fingers were already holding onto it. ‘Wo-ah, I think you’ve had quite enough!’

‘Hey, give that back!’ Yooncheol pretended to reach for the bottle, and Hansol raised it higher.

‘Say the cookie tongue twister, I dare you!’

Yooncheol kicked him slightly.

‘Should I stand on the chair for that one?’

‘On, don’t bother. We don’t have ceilings this high here. And we don’t need a hole to Hojoonie-hyung’s suite.’

‘We have Byungjoo and Taeyang-hyung above us.’

Yooncheol reached out for the bottle again, this time for Hansol’s, but the little one stood up, raising both bottles higher.

‘Watch your hands! Especially if we have Byungjoo there, he will get my underpants down and on my face, so that I wash them. Say it like this.’

‘Oh, you can keep it,’ Yooncheol fell back on the bed and shot Hansol a glance up. The view was quite unusual.

Hansol pulled a face clearly showing how boring Yooncheol was.

‘Like I need it.’

He pushed the bottle into his hand, and Yooncheol sat up to finish it. Hansol pulled the empty bag from under the blanket and crumpled it loudly.

‘The happiness was so short-lived,’ he summed up, finishing his bottle and sticking what he could of the bag into it. ‘Listen, Yooncheolie…’

‘Hm?’ Yooncheol replied dreamily,  squinting like a cat.

Hansol put the bottle down to the floor, and his face alit with a new, different smile. He sat somehow very uprightly, staring at the window on the opposite wall.

‘Dance with me, Yooncheolie.’

Yooncheol opened his eyes, and his sweet sleepy smile fell.

‘Hm?..’ he repeated, his tone different this time, glancing at Hansol in a vain hope to catch a trace of mockery in his face, but Hansol was still staring at the window.

‘You are tired of sitting anyway, and I love dancing with you,’ he inclined his head to the side, shrugging slightly.

‘Oh quit.’

‘I’m serious. Come dance with me.’

Yooncheol’s adam’s apple bobbed up and down.

‘But I suck…’

He trailed off, wondering why this was the only thing making him uneasy. He was familiar with asking Hansol for dancing coaching. He did it with just a little intention of having a chance to frolic around, because with Hansol it couldn’t end another way, but mostly he just really still didn’t believe he was any good at dancing. And even if he actually _was_ , - years of practice had to have their effect, - he would always be far from Hansol’s skill. Long and lanky, Yooncheol stumbled over his own legs. They would never go where he wanted them to, they spread wider than they should, they got in his way and they stomped terribly. Sometimes, on individual lessons like this, admiring Hansol showing the example, Yooncheol quite sincerely hated his legs.

Hansol finally turned to face Yooncheol, and his face was perfectly serious. He clearly wasn’t suggesting a choreography rehearsal, and the room didn’t even have space for that kind of stuff.

‘What do you mean you suck?! You rock! Come on, want me to choose the music?'

He rose, holding out his hand, but Yooncheol didn’t hurry to accept it. He challenged Hansol with a stare and laughed nervously.

‘You’re drunk.’

‘I’m not! I just want to dance, come on, Yooncheolie!’

Yooncheol frowned, still wanting it to be a joke. Hansol was looking at him pleadingly, raising his eyebrows. His upper lip stuck out so childishly. Yooncheol smiled, perplexed.

‘Oh, seriously! And what do you wanna dance?’

‘Something slow. Come on, you’re tired, you need to relax a bit. I will lead.’

‘Lead?!’

Yooncheol realized he was completely at a loss. He was ready to agree already, despite the weirdness of the situation, but he ineptly got terrified of coming off a disgrace. He was always hesitant to dance before Hansol’s eyes. The little one could make even something simple and stupid, like a prom dance, look smooth and beautiful. And he could easily have invented this all to have a good laugh at Yooncheol’s clumsiness.

‘Come, hey!’ Hansol’s gaze was almost reproachful as he leaned down and took Yooncheol’s hands in his own. ‘Let’s do it! You don’t need to be shy, I will lead and you just follow.’

He pulled at Yooncheol’s hands, making him stand up and become a full head taller than Hansol at once. They were standing so close, so _damn_ close. Yooncheol looked away. He suddenly found his heart pounding in his throat, and he cursed himself head to toe. Hansol took a step back.

‘The-ere we go. Now, music!’

He had his little speaker on his cabinet, and he plugged it into his phone, swiping across the collections in search for a good track for the case. At last, the speaker bloomed with something quiet and instrumental. Hansol put the phone away, and looked up at Yooncheol, smiling reassuringly. The other met his gaze, terrified. The weirdness of the situation was rendered insignificant before one huge, foolish fear.

‘Come on, I suck at this so badly,’ he tried again, weakly. ‘I will always be stepping on your feet, I just…’

‘You’re an awesome dancer, cut the bullshit.’ Hansol reached his hand out and ruffled Yooncheol’s hair. Yooncheol snorted in surprise, and turned away, embarrassed. Hansol smiled and sighed.

‘Let’s go, the music is on. I’m not asking you for a choreography practice. Just straighten your back.’

He put his hands on Yooncheol’s waist, and led them all the way up to his armpits, raising his elbows.

‘And, please, for God’s sake, look at me. Your nostrils are so damn hot it’s hard for me to keep a cool head.’

Yooncheol finally gathered some courage to look down at Hansol, smiling ashamedly.

‘Put this hand on my shoulder…’

As Yooncheol didn’t hurry to comply, Hansol placed his hand on his own shoulder, and embraced his waist. There remained a tiny space between their bellies, an Yooncheol felt it pungently for some reason.

‘Just, please, don’t squeeze me, I need to breathe somewhere. This hand goes on mine. And relax.’

Yooncheol covered Hansol’s little paw with his palm, and it didn’t seem so disproportionally huge any more.

‘Just follow my lead. Come on. One-two… three… huh…’

A little step, and another. Yooncheol’s knees were shaking treacherously, but following Hansol came naturally. The little one freed himself from Yooncheol’s hands and turned him around, - and in just a moment his arm was around his waist again. Another step, a sway, and then a turn – together now. Yooncheol went thoughtlessly where Hansol guided him, and it was a miracle that he didn’t step on any feet, Hansol’s or his own.

‘Look at me,’ the voice reminded from under his chin.

‘Oh, sorry,’ Yooncheol met Hansol’s gaze again. ‘Nostrils, right?’

Hansol nodded enthusiastically, and turned Yooncheol around again, stopping his motion with his hands just the right second. Forward, backward, Hansol turned under his hand. They swayed a little more. Yooncheol was starting to catch up with the rhythm, despite the white noise in his head. Dancing wasn’t scary. Hansol didn’t chuckle like he always did, he just smiled reassuringly up at Yooncheol and nodded his head. A little step, and another, and then a turn around. Yooncheol stopped just on time on his own, and smiled, returning his hands to their places on Hansol’s shoulder and palm.

‘See? You’re doing awesome. You always catch everything so quickly.’

‘It’s just that you’re a good lead.’

‘It’s just that your ears are red.’

Yooncheol couldn’t hold back his laugh, and he was just about to stoop again, but Hansol took an unexpected step forward, slid his arms under Yooncheol’s and embraced his shoulders, cutting his laugh in a second.

Yooncheol swallowed hard. He dropped his chin on Hansol’s black top, hugged him automatically, not daring to press him close, and felt that he was about to cry with abashment. The position was painfully familiar, but the context was new and weird. Hansol kept shifting gently foot to foot to the music.

‘You’re… a good partner,’ Yooncheol managed, his voice unfamiliar.

‘No, you are,’ Hansol replied from somewhere around his armpit. ‘You’re just a bit too nervous. And dancing is all based on emotions, you remember.’

‘Yeah? Like what?’ Yooncheol mumbled under his breath.

Hansol grinned, moving away, shifting his obedient hands again.

‘I suggest you think it over for a little while and tell me, which emotions could our dance be based on.’

He was softly spinning them both around, pushing Yooncheol’s feet to step the right way. On the edge of Yooncheol’s field of vision the fuzzy shining was growing rapidly.

‘I don’t know. Boozing?’ He gave a crooked smile, staring, enchanted, down into Hansol’s eyes. The little one looked away for a moment, admitting the remark correct.

‘Well, about right, but it’s not an emotion. It’s lifestyle. Anything else?’

‘Dumbfuckery?’

‘Oh fuck you!’

Hansol slapped him on the chest and stopped in his tracks. The air in Yooncheol’s mouth became fizzy and sour. The words were stuck somewhere about his larynx, his field of vision was conquered little by little by the fizzy light from the edges. His palms caressed their way up to Hansol’s face as he leaned forward and, barely registering what exactly he was doing, brought his lips to Hansol’s surprised half-smile.

The shining closed over his eyes, and the world disappeared. His heart was pounding in his ears through wool. He couldn’t breathe in, the air had seemingly ran out, his cheeks were burning and his fingers trembling. His whole body had suddenly grown numb. He hardly felt it when Hansol covered his hands with his little palms and lowered them, moving away softly.

Yooncheol opened his eyes, only now realizing they were wet. The senses were returning slowly, one by one; he felt his lips, slightly wet as well, his body, still bent down awkwardly, shaking violently from head to toe, his scorching ears. Hansol was looking up at him, something like surprise on his face. Yooncheol didn’t even remember if he had returned the kiss. He wanted to run away, but there was nowhere to go, and his knees gave. The bed got in the way just on time, not letting him fall to the floor. He dropped down and, barely registering any sounds besides his own pounding heart, watched Hansol. The little one’s face slowly alit with a wide smile.

‘I thought I’d have to lead till the end,’ he said, stepping towards Yooncheol.

Yooncheol was staring up, heaving and gasping for air.

‘How do you…’ he exhaled, but something clicked in his throat, and he swallowed hard.

‘You think I’m totally blind?’ Hansol tilted his head to the side and took Yooncheol’s face in his hands. His palms were trembling, he twitched once or twice, as if wanting to withdraw, but stayed in place, only his smile grew absolutely stupid.

‘I didn’t..!’ Yooncheol tried again, but the spasm cut him off again, making him swallow the words. He didn’t allow himself these thoughts. He didn’t allow himself that feeling, Hansol trusted him, Yooncheol was the only one to be allowed around when Hansol was the most vulnerable and exposed. How could he betray this trust?..

Hansol shrugged. He let go of Yooncheol’s face, sat down beside him and wrapped his arms around his own chest. He took a breath but the words didn’t come.

‘I…’ Yooncheol forced out through another spasm, ‘I didn’t want this.’

He looked at Hansol. The corner of Hansol’s lips twitched, but he didn’t smile as he turned his head to meet Yooncheol’s gaze.

‘What was this?’ he asked quietly.

‘What _is_ this all?’ Yooncheol asked back, reaching up to his face to wipe the unbidden tears from his eyes.

Hansol shook his head.

‘My knees are weak,’ he complained, somehow especially childishly.

Yooncheol hemmed and pressed his hand to Hansol’s arm. He was shaking as if he was cold, and the trembling wouldn’t stop. Hansol moved his shoulders uneasily and moved away to the wall. He dragged the pillow up against the wall, threw the blanket back and started making a nest out of it. Yooncheol felt even more lost.

‘Hey!’ he called. ‘Hansolie?’

‘I’m cold,’ Hansol replied. ‘I’m shaking.’

‘It’s not cold.

‘I am cold,’ Hansol repeated stubbornly, nestling in his nest, resting his back on the pillow. ‘Come.’

He reached his arms out for him. Yooncheol hesitated for just a moment, but – _fuck it! –_ the situation had long gone out of control, and he did what he wanted so badly. He climbed onto the bed and settled on Hansol’s chest.

This was unusual. Hansol’s heart was pounding wildly. He wrapped the blanket around Yooncheol and held him, stroking his cheek with his little cold paw. Yooncheol closed his eyes, trying to get his head around what was going on with him, with them – and also trying to remember when was the last time someone had cuddled him like this, and who it was.

‘Listen,’ he said quietly, ‘this is so weird.’

‘You bet,’ Hansol replied. ‘It’s usually you putting your chin on my head.’

Yooncheol gave a little smile.

‘No, not this. Like, all of this. You know… what do we have now? All of the guys’ suspicions – they were all right from the start? This is why you never even liked anybody?

Hansol scoffed, holding Yooncheol closer.

‘Bullshit. I don’t know what the matter with me is.’

‘And what about Byungjoo?’

‘What about him?’

Yooncheol pressed up his lips.

‘Well, I mean… seriously, I thought, if you _are,_ then you will certainly be with him…’

Hansol slapped his arm.

‘I’m telling you, I don’t know what the matter with me is. I… oh come on, what are you even thinking?!’ He shook Yooncheol reproachfully. ‘What is your problem with all this nonsense?!’

Yooncheol put his arm around Hansol’s waist and sighed. He wasn’t sure what his problem was. Hansol went quiet.

‘About this thing, that is the matter with you… what do you think? Will it… pass?’

His voice sounded desperate, and he cursed himself again. Hansol ran his fingers through Yooncheol’s hair and pressed his lips to the top of his head. He didn’t know what to answer, and didn’t really want to answer at all. Yooncheol was breathing a tensed staccato, waiting. Hansol sighed.

‘You’re adorable,’ he said quietly. ‘So, so adorable. I don’t think there are any other people like you out there.’

‘Me?..’ Yooncheol rustled, raising his head slightly.

‘Thank you. Thank you for always bearing with me. For… you know, not laughing. For not saying things…’

‘Things?’

‘That I have to grow up… that I have to get a grip, that I’m a crybaby princess… like Yano does sometimes, you know.

‘Oh, fuck Sangwon.’

‘I love Sangwon.’

Yooncheol sighed.

‘Me too…’

He rose from Hansol’s chest and lay down beside him. Hansol slid down, dragging the pillow with him, and settled on his back, staring at the ceiling. His arms, free now, he wrapped around himself tightly.

‘I…’ he inhaled deeply, the words hard to get out. ‘I mean it, I love you so much. You’re too good to me, and you know, you don’t have to be… you have it hard without my input. You always work, work, work. You always stand up for us both.'

‘Not always,’ Yooncheol jerked his head. ‘Don’t start with how hard I have it. I do what I want, you know.’

Hansol turned to him, rising on his elbow.

‘I… probably come off as ungrateful.’ His voice was trembling. ‘After all, I _really_ could have got a grip a while ago. I could have dealt with this all – with anxiety, that is. You just, please, know that I’m trying. I really am. I just don’t always get it right.

Yooncheol shook his head.

‘Stop this. You don’t come off as anything. It’s okay.

‘I’m really trying so hard, I…’

Yooncheol nodded and brought his finger to his lips.

‘I know. I’m with you, Hansolie. You know that I’m always there, that I love you, right? I won’t leave you.’

Hansol bit his lip. He reached his hand out and stroked Yooncheol’s cheek.

‘I always wanted to tell you,’ he said, as if trying to justify himself. ‘To say thank you. To tell you that you underestimate yourself. That you deserve much better. Every day I wanted, and I couldn’t. And now… I don’t know what’s wrong with me.’

‘And with me?’ Yooncheol smiled.

Hansol stared somewhere into the bed, froze and suddenly covered his face with his hand.

‘Hansolie?..’

Yooncheol reached out for him, but Hansol sat up quickly, wiping his eyes with his hands.

‘I’m sorry, I…’

Yooncheol rose after him, wrapped his arms around the little one’s shoulders and drew him close.

‘I don’t want it to be like this.’ Hansol was wiping his eyes fiercely. ‘I don’t…’

‘I know,’ Yooncheol said softly. ‘I know everything. Don’t worry.’

‘You’re too sweet...’

‘Come on, don’t.’

‘But really…’

‘You shouldn’t.’

Hansol buried his nose on Yooncheol’s shoulders, wrapping his arms around him. Yooncheol kissed his forehead and pressed him to his chest just for a few short breaths, before freeing himself and standing up from the bed.

‘Come, lie down,’ he said calmly. ‘Don’t cry. I’m with you. I’ll change and join you here, okay?’

Hansol nodded, and, wiping his tears with one hand, reached under the pillow with the other for a vest. Yooncheol changed quickly, and waited as Hansol struggled to pull off his skinny jeans. He huffed and sniffed, and his heels got stuck in the jeans, not letting him take them off. He barely managed to get that done, and threw them to the floor in a mess, his tee following suit. He got his vest on and turned to Yooncheol, who was standing by his bed awkwardly.

In his tee and shorts Yooncheol seemed even taller and skinnier. He was so wiry and gangly, and lost, all sharp shoulders, knees and elbows. Hansol smiled weakly at him and sniffed. Yooncheol got quickly under the blanket. Hansol drew him closer – and got lost in his hug.

It felt so natural and normal. Yooncheol’s body didn’t smell like anything special. His deodorant had already worn out. His tee was a little bit stale after lying under his pillow, and the slight smell of alcohol remained. Hansol shut his eyes tight, and tears ran down his cheeks again.

Yooncheol kissed the top of Hansol’s head. His legs intertwined with Hansol’s – thin and powerful. He felt easy and free. All the feelings compressed in his chest were about to overflow. He was ready to cover every inch of Hansol’s little dry body with kisses, but instead he just kept caressing his back, his chiselled shoulders, his wet cheeks, pressed his little palms to his lips. Hansol was so childishly carefree, so childishly blunt and honest, - and so adultly handsome and serious. Behind his pretty baby face and his sunbeam smile he had a reckless warrior, and Yooncheol knew that warrior closer than anyone else did. He couldn’t help anyhow, but the warrior needed a sword-bearer and somebody to have his back, and Yooncheol was ready to be both. For this, he had enough patience – or desperation.

Hansol brushed his nose against Yooncheol’s collarbones, sniffing and smearing tears all around. It never took him much to cry, the feelings easily grew too big to fit inside him. But the thing filling his now was indescribable. Hansol had been in love before: fleeting, light and beautiful affairs with motions, with looks, with smiles. These loves got out through his dances, through his drawings, they fed his art and his soul, - and he didn’t have to act on them anyhow. They came and went easily and fleetingly. Hansol had loved every member like this, and some of them he had loved many times. Every time he found bowls of food by the door, every time Yooncheol comforted him in another out-of-the-way corner, every time he repeated the dance moves earnestly time and time again, Hansol fell in love just a bit. He was drawn to Yooncheol: to his sincerity and bluntness, to his determination and hard working, to his advertence and delicacy. Hansol was sure grateful for his care, but only now he actually thought about how much it cost Yooncheol.

He freed his hands from Yooncheol’s big palms and wrapped his arms around him, moving away slightly to peek into his face.

Hansol was never really jealous – just like he wasn’t used to letting go. He never kept anyone, the anxiety living inside of him and eating him from the inside dictated its own rules. And at the same time he was desperately, painfully terrified of losing the things – the people – who had become constants in his life. The group was something to hold on to. The members left, he saw them less, but much more stayed: the others stayed, and they came to get him into another pillow fight before bed; his studio stayed, filled to the brim with sketchbooks; the dancing room stayed, and the music, which never ran out, no matter how much he listened. This kept him afloat. And, weirdly enough, these things brought him to every new breaking point, when a lump in his throat gathered out of the blue, not letting him breathe, and he feared, without any reason: that his friends would desert him, that the Entertainment will bankrupt, that the group will disband, or be disbanded, that the fans would suddenly start hating on him, that… that he will remain alone, hanging in empty black space, with nothing underneath, with nothing he could grasp…

He could easily grasp Yooncheol now. He was long, thin, angular, - and warm. His heart was beating loudly, and his adam’s apple bobbing funnily. Hansol moved up a bit to be on his level and looked deep into his eyes. Yooncheol gave a tiny smile. Hansol drew him in and kissed him again.

They both had mostly forgotten how it was done, but this time they felt much more confident. Yooncheol was tender and careful, his soft lips touched the corners of Hansol’s mouth ever so slightly, just to press closer the next moment. Hansol loved this innocence and the touching slow unfolding. This felt like a first school love, - and Hansol’s own had been completely wrong.

Hansol still smelled a bit like crisps. He held Yooncheol close, not letting go, but allowing him to do whatever else he wanted. The fingers caressed the back of Yooncheol’s head, the other hand wandered up and down his side, counting his ribs. Yooncheol’s heart sank deeper with every touch. He tasted Hansol gently, caressed his cheeks, traced his velvety ears with his fingertips, stroked down his neck and caught his warm hands.

Hansol let him go, squinted, smiled softly, and pecked his nose. Yooncheol smiled back, widely and happily, crinkled his nose, and hid his face on Hansol’s breast. He was easy to grasp. And Hansol grasped him with his arms and legs.

Oh so tightly.

**Author's Note:**

> Naksol needs more attention. Nakta needs more attention.


End file.
